Ashes of the Phoenix: Year 1
by ReginaRex
Summary: AU. Fem!Harry. Raised isolated from her family due to the priority of her brother being the Boy-Who-Lived, Ivy Potter was unaware that she was even a witch until her Hogwart's letter came – where she was sorted into Slytherin.
1. Chapter 1

**Ashes of the Phoenix: Year 1**

 **Description:** _AU. Fem!Harry. Raised isolated from her family due to the priority of her brother being the Boy-Who-Lived, Ivy Potter was unaware that she was even a witch until her Hogwart's letter came – where she was sorted into Slytherin._

 **A/N:** _so, as you can probably tell, I will be trying the WBWL admittedly overused story line – and will be doing my own unique version of it! Despite being about eleven years late. This will be a Slytherin, Fem, Intelligent Harry, and will have shades of grey (not in the way you're thinking of, dirty minded readers!). This will obviously be OOC, as I very much believe in the idea of Nature VS Nurture and the way that Fem!Harry is nurtured in this book compared to cannon paves the way for how she acts as a result. Ivy will not be super powerful or an absolute genius (just to clarify for all the people who, like me, get irritated when suddenly a first year, or the other years for that matter is suddenly Merlin-level)._

 _Pureblood politics_ _will_ _play a role in this book (more so in the later years than the former years). As the Wizarding World is clearly more forward in regards to women's rights and what not, the title of Heir/Heiress will go to the first born child – this has now occurred in the royal succession in Britain, and in other countries, so the Wizarding World would have got there first. In my opinion anyway. This fic will include Dorea and Charlus as her grandparents (rather than Euphemia and Fleamont), for reasons that will later be evident._

 _Pairings will occur fourth year and onwards, not before. There may be a minor crush or something because most children have crushes, but nothing serious._

 _Bashings will vary in regards to character development throughout this story (which I plan to be long as I want to cover all seven years at least) but Dumbledore will be a target of it, though he won't be a mega evil, money grasping lunatic or anything. Just due to his rather twisted vision of the greater good and manipulative attitude in some scenarios._

 **Chapter 1 – the Potters**

The first time that Ivy Potter met her parents was when she had been five years old. Before then, she had simply assumed that they had died – after all, the Dursley's had blatantly refused to talk about them.

They had sat in the dining room on Petunia's pristine leather chairs (which Ivy had been ordered to clean two days previously), and she had never been so overjoyed. The Dursley's were not abusive, at least physically, so Ivy knew that she could have had it worse – but she knew that they hated her. Sometimes, she had wondered if they even knew that her name was Ivy, too used to referring to her as 'freak' and 'girl'; if she got any better than Dudley in tests, or if something strange happened around her (which, to her ire, happened often) then she would be locked in her cupboard without food; she had to do chore after chore with no rest at all.

And if they dared find her take a break after a long day of cooking and gardening and cleaning and decorating, then it was back to the cupboard. Truthfully, Aunt Petunia only let her out when she was desperate for a job to be done that she didn't want to do herself.

They – James and Lily, she soon learned – told her of how she was a witch! She couldn't believe it at the time that she was something special. She was just Ivy, after all. However, when she asked if she would be going home with them, hope filling every fibre of her being, it had gone sour.

It was then that they told her of her brother. Her twin brother, Charles. He had defeated Voldemort as a baby, marked with a 'X' mark on his cheek, the same night that she had got her lightning bolt scar from falling debris (or so she was told). According to her parents, it was essential that he was adequately trained and, she could not live with them.

Ivy supposed that it should have been a consolation that they both looked sad, and like they regretted what they had to say at that, but she had exploded in upset and fury. She always had had a short temper.

Slamming the door, she left them to leave on their own with Petunia smiling gleefully at them as if she had won an award.

When they came again, a year and a half later, she had resolved herself to bury the envy and anger deep within her. At least she had parents, she thought to herself.

They visited again at seven and at nine, never on her birthday (she had inquired about that once, but they had regretfully told her that they could not leave Charles. She had cried at that) and never twice in one year. For the latter, the excuse was again Charles, leaving Ivy to wonder why she was not good enough for her parents – why she could never be like Charles to them.

At eleven, relief finally came in the form of a Hogwarts letter, addressed to _Miss I. Potter_. Maybe, enough at Hogwarts, she had thought with glee, they would realise that she deserved just as much of their praise and attention as Charles did.

Now, Ivy was awaiting her parent's arrival, as they had wrote to her Aunt to inform them that they would be arriving to take her to get her Hogwarts things.

Aunt Petunia, of course, despised the idea, but had no choice but to relent.

"Are you sure they said that they would be here at twelve?" Ivy inquired, swallowing the lump in her throat as she saw that the clock had just struck one. They were an hour late.

"Yes," Aunt Petunia snapped, though Ivy almost thought that she looked slightly sorry for her, "unless you are insinuating that I don't know how to read."

"Of course not," Ivy said bashfully, before sighing and looking back up to the clock.

It was something to do with Charles, she thought bitterly, he was the reason they couldn't visit her, he was the reason they wouldn't even spend one birthday with her.

Tears welling, Ivy ran back to the cupboard under the stairs that had been her bedroom for many years until, realising that Ivy was about to become a witch and feared being turned into a toad, Petunia allowed her to have Dudley's second bedroom.

How could she have been so stupid as to actually think that they'd come? They never had enough time for her. This fact only made her more determined to show them that she was better than Charles! She would be more intelligent, she would be more powerful than him no matter what it took.

Regathering herself together and rubbing slightly at her red cheeks, Ivy tried to hold her head high as she ventured back out of her cupboard, heading into the kitchen to where Petunia sat in the same position. She, like her parents, didn't care about her, but at least Petunia didn't pretend and say otherwise.

"Aunt Petunia," the woman's head raised from the magazine she had been reading, looking at her with unconcealed contempt, "will you take me to London please. I know my parents won't arrive."

Petunia stared at the girl haughtily for a moment, before thinking about the request – the perfect opportunity to annoy and upset _darling_ Lily, "alright. Be in the car in two minutes."

Ivy nodded and thanked her, all but rushing out of the house in her oversized clothing (a mixture of Petunia and Dudley's hand-me-downs) and too-big shoes. Petunia was a size seven for shoes, but Ivy was currently a size two.

Predictably, the ride was silent, except for the time that Ivy was told to be quiet for humming too loudly to the radio. The Potter girl, who had never been to London (or even out of Surrey) before was taking it all in with amazement plastered over her face. The city was beautiful.

Petunia dropped her off outside a pub labelled the _Leaky Cauldron_ , having, luckily, remembered the way from all the times Lily had dragged her and her family there, "go, girl, I'll pick you up in six hours. I have shopping to do."

By the time that Ivy had moved to protest, stating that she did not know the way, Petunia had already drove off and left her in the dust. Unsure and feeling insecure, Ivy made her way into the pub, watching as people moved around merrily, paying her no mind.

"Excuse me," she said, but it seemed as if nobody could hear. Travelling up to the bar, which thankfully wasn't too crowded, she addressed the barman, "excuse me, Sir, but is there any chance you know how I can get to Diagon Alley?"

Her voice wavered, fear filling her that maybe he wouldn't know – or wouldn't tell her - and that she would never get to Hogwarts; never be able to prove to her parents that she was worth anything.

Despite her fears, the barman smiled, "of course," he informed her merrily, "I'm Tom. I'll just finish serving this gentleman and then I'll be right with you." 

Ivy offered him her best smile, one that she had only used once or twice, and waiting patiently for him to finish serving the short man next to her – who she had heard him call Mundungus Fletcher.

Before she knew it, she was being led by the kind man towards a stone wall. Furrowing her brows, she felt confusion fill her – did she have to talk to the wall to get through? Would the wall talk back?

Instead, Tom merely got out a stick (wand, she reminded herself, having seen her parents') and began to tap a pattern into the bricks, "welcome, Ivy," he said enthusiastically, "to Diagon Alley!"

It was truthfully breaktaking, the young girl acknowledged. The bright colours and the extravagantly clothed people and the beautiful animals outside the shops, it cause yet another one of her rare smiles to grace her face as she gasped with glee, "it's wonderful."

Despite the descriptions she had gained from her mother on one of their fleeting visits, nothing could compare to truly seeing it.

Tom smiled at her, "I hope I'll see you again soon," before disappearing back through where he had come from.

Beginning to weave her way through the people, Ivy headed towards the bank which she recalled was at the far end. According to Lily Potter, it was an amazing, towering structure of marble, and Ivy caught sight of it soon enough.

"Welcome to the Wizarding World, Ivy," she said to herself as she began to climb up the steps to the bank, hoping they would allow her to access the money she was told her parents had told her she had without her key.

Inside, all the goblins sparsely offered her a glance, and if their face's portrayed any emotion, it was slight disgust. She flinched away from them, never having seen a goblin before, and felt embarrassed under such looks whilst wearing a ridiculously baggy top that Dudley had stained, and a pair of Petunia's jeans that required a belt and pooled at her feet.

When she arrived at the front desk, Ivy was ignored. Shifting on her feet and coughing awkwardly, she finally said, "excuse me," gaining the attention of the goblin who simply raised a brow at the young girl. It was intimidating, with him sitting at a desk so much taller than her.

"I'm here to access my vault," she informed him confidently, but then her voice wavered weakly and sheepishly on the latter part, "but I don't have my key."

"Three drops of blood," the goblin informed her, gesturing carelessly to the parchment beside him.

Ivy blanched, eyes going wide, "pardon?"

The goblin rolled his eyes at her, taking the golden knife off of the side and handing it to her, "cut into your palm and let three drops of blood drip onto the _identification parchment_."

Nodding, Ivy moved over to where the parchment was. Taking in a deep breath, and after a few seconds of hesitating, she pressed the knife into her lightly tanned skin (no doubt from all the work she had to do in the garden) and winced as three drops of her blood hit the parchment. Careful to make sure no more spilt, just in case that would hinder the process, she quickly snatched her hand away.

The goblin read the parchment. If Ivy had not already made up her mind that the goblins were fairly emotionless, she would have said that he was surprised.

"Welcome to Gringotts, Heiress Potter," the goblin said with a shark-like grin.

"Heiress?" Ivy inquired, knowing nothing of what he was talking about. She knew a lot about the old muggle hierarchy, having been an avid lover of history, but did not realise that the wizards had one. She found it odd that her father had never mentioned it.

"Of course," the goblin told her smoothly, noticeably more welcoming and forthcoming that previously, "you are the firstborn of the current Lord Potter, and by submitting yourself to the identification parchment before September 1st of your eleventh year of life, you have been recognised as Heiress. Otherwise, the title would have gone to your younger brother."

Ivy frowned. She didn't want to think that her parents hadn't told her on purpose, after all, she could still remember the numerous, numerous nights that she had spent longing for their appearances. She still did. Ivy wanted to blame Charles, she really did, like she always did. It had to be his fault… But their parents always could have not listened to him. They could have told her anyway.

"Follow me to your vault," the goblin told her, leading her from the desk and towards where a cart lay. Getting in the cart, the goblin – whom she inquired the name of, and learnt it was _Rogrod_ – issued a swift warning before the ride began. It was exhilarating.

Even though Ivy had never flew, she couldn't help but feel as if this is how flying would feel; she loved it, and wanted to feel it again. In fact, when the ride finally came to an end – lasting for a lengthy amount of time – she felt disappointment.

To access the Heiress Vault, which was deep under the ground of London, she knew, blood was once again needed. Idly, Ivy wondered if this was some kind of sacred right of passage in the Wizarding World – maybe she would have to use her blood to get into Hogwarts.

She grimaced at the idea, as the sharp pain of the prick in the wall occurred, then allowing the door to the Heir Vault to be opened.

When the door was far enough back to reveal it's contents, Ivy was amazed. There was mountains upon mountains of gold, as far as she could see from her short height. It was more money than she ever had seen before, and she had to ask the goblin several times to verify the fact that it was actually hers.

Ivy Potter had nothing that belonged to her, not even her name which was so commonly changed to 'freak'. No article of clothing, no toys, not even her parents were truly hers. To have something actually be hers, whether it was money or even something as small as a slip of paper, made her feel something warm inside.

Tears pricking at her eyes, startling the goblin, Ivy swiftly disappeared into the Vault to collect some of the gold, silver and bronze, not wanting Rogrod – or anyone for that matter – to see her cry. She sniffed.

Having filled the 'extendable' bag (initially, Ivy had no idea what Rogrod had meant by that, but, as it expanded to fit however much she wanted to put in, she understood), she moved to head back. That was until she caught sight of a whole wall of desks overflowing with jewellery.

Moving over to it, Ivy grinned as she took in the beauty of it all. She had always admired Petunia's own jewellery, longing for something of her own, and this was all so beautiful.

Picking up a silver necklace with a small, glistening emerald upon it surrounded by what Ivy swore were diamonds around it, she fell in love. Looking at the tag upon it she read: _formerly the property of Iolanthe Potter nee Peverell._

Taking off the tag delicately, and placing it into her pocket so that she could research Iolanthe, she then moved across. She also picked up a beautiful diamond choker which had been brought for _Dorea Potter nee Black_ by _Charlus Potter_. She didn't know what she would wear it with, or if it would even suite her at eleven, but she would certainly wear it with pride one day. Lastly, she took a pair of ruby earings belonging to _Cassia Potter nee Longbottom_ and a pair of emerald earings belonging to _Elladora Potter nee Black_.

Feeling more joyful than she had in a long time, knowing that she was in possession of things that belonged to genuine relatives – her family – she headed out of the vaults with Rogrod, savouring every moment of the cart ride.

At the end of the ride, he passed her the parchment which he had described as the _identification paper_ , "here," he had said, "it'll give you the information on your family which it seems you don't have. Any queries, you can get in touch with Gringotts, we will also be sending you monthly information on any withdrawals from your account."

"Does anyone else have access to it?" Ivy inquired, bitterly wondering if her father or mother used this money to buy stuff for their precious Charles. Stuff they didn't think she was worthy of.

The goblin nodded, "Lord Potter and Albus Dumbledore also have access to this account. As Heiress, you can revoke the right for Dumbledore to have access, and you can stop Lord Potter from withdrawing but not from being able to view what you take in and out and he can restrict your access as your guardian."

Ivy nodded, asking for that to indeed occur and inquiring as to how much her father and the 'Dumbledore' man withdrew. Apparently Albus Dumbledore hadn't withdrew in years and years, but her father withdrew far more regularly. After finding out that her father could restrict her access, she decided that she would go back later to take out more. Ivy would like to think that he wouldn't cut her off, but how was she to trust people that she barely knew?

Heading into the alley, her first stop was Madam Malkins. The woman was very friendly to her, asking what type of robes she wanted. Honestly, Ivy had no idea what she was prattling on about with 'Heiress Robes, Formal Robes, School Robes, Casual Robes' and what not but she ordered two of everything just in case.

"What crest would you like on your Heiress robes?" Madam Malkin had asked, looking slightly doubtful that the ill-dressed girl in front of her was an Heiress, but still kept a ready smile upon her face.

"Potter," Ivy answered simply, and showed the woman the sheet for proof. As the taken aback Madam Malkin passed it back, Ivy took the opportunity to read it again, having read it already when she was walking back to the shop.

 _Name: Ivy Iolanthe Potter_

 _Birth: 31_ _st_ _July 1980, St. Mungo's, 11:53pm_

 _Blood Status: Half-Blood (pureblood father; mother of squib descent)_

 _Notable Titles: Heiress Potter, contender for title of Heir(ess) Black_

 _Parents: James Charlus Potter and Lily Rosa Potter nee Evans_

 _Grandparents: Charlus Fleamont Potter and Dorea Venus Potter nee Black_

 _Great-Grandparents: Henry Ignotus Potter and Cassia Aurelia Potter nee Longbottom_

 _Great-Great Grandparents: Theseus Hardwin Potter and Maeve Mirasha Potter nee Gaunt_

 _Great-Great-Great Grandparents: Hadrian Basil Potter and Elladora Juliet Potter nee Black_

 _Other Notable Relatives: Iolanthe Potter nee Peverell (daughter of Ignotus Peverell)_

 _Origin of Family: 12_ _th_ _Century_

"Your robes will be ready in an hour," Madam Malkin informed her, and Ivy smiled at her, thanking her politely before, with her _identification paper_ held protectively in her hand, she began to head towards _Ollivanders_. It said _wandmakers_ in it so she assumed that that would be where she received her wand.

Every time she went out into the Alley, she had to look around in wonder all over again, hoping that this was not just a dream – that all of this would not be stolen from her.

To her right, she saw a large, red-haired family fumbling around with bronze coins – ones that Rogrod had called 'knuts' – and with the woman mothering her many children. Ivy looked on with a degree of jealousy and longing, wishing to don red hair and be cared for by the seemingly loving woman.

Tearing her eyes from them, she carried on journeying towards the wandmaker's shop, with other families such as an extremely fair haired family in her sight as she entered.

Within the shop, all was silent and Ivy briefly worried that nobody was there and that she'd never receive her wand – until a voice sounded loudly from behind her: "I've been expecting you, Ivy Potter. Your brother was in here only last week getting his first wand."

Ivy felt resentment bubble within her towards her parents, and towards the brother that she had never met.

The process to get her wand went on and on, each try ending in something within the pub swiftly broken and smashed. Eventually, Olivander gave her a particular look, before whisking himself off behind his desk, heading back. Ivy observed, curiously, as he looked at the box with something akin to suspicion.

He handed her the wand, watching her with an intensity that made Ivy shift slightly uncomfortably, before she resolved herself to pick up the wand and wave it.

A wind blew her hair all about, sparks igniting and green and gold floating around her. Ivy's eyes widened at the rush of power that she felt through her, causing a grin to make it's way onto her face."

"Interesting," Olivander said, "very interesting," at her inquisitive look he continued, "there is only one other wand with this core – and that wand once lay in the hands of one of the darkest wizards this world had ever seen."

"What was the wizard called?" Ivy asked of him, looking at her wand and then back up to the man. Did this wand work for her because she had felt such resentment towards her parents and brother? Did that make her evil?

"We do not speak his name," Olivander spoke ominously, and it was soon evident that Ivy would not get the name out of this man.

Soon enough, she was heading out of the wand shop, holding her wand protectively in her grasp and towards the book stores. Ivy had never been particularly academic, knowing well the punishments that she would receive should she outshine Dudley, but (with her bid to show her parents that she was, indeed, worth something) she found herself buying everything on that list and more – taking Mr. Flourish's advice on extra books, such as the potions books (and later potions sets in another shop) that all Slytherins seemed to buy after getting sorted, and the Ravenclaw collection of school supplies.

Not long after, Ivy was heading back to receive the robes that Madam Malkin had made, for her, backtracking to Eeylops Owl Emporium where she had caught sight of a stunning snowy owl. Initially, when she had seen that she was allowed to bring a pet, she was going to buy one of the sweet kittens that she had seen, but she had simply fell in love with the currently unnamed owl.

With only ten minutes to spare Ivy rushed to get herself a trunk, which she realised she had forgot, allowing the salesman to talk her into buying one of their best trunks that had state of the art protection spells and had the biggest extendable charm they offered.

Taking it, she found Aunt Petunia already waiting for her with a scowl. But, for once, that did not wipe the wide grin off of Ivy's own face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ashes of the Phoenix: Year 1**

 **Description:** _AU. Fem!Harry. Raised isolated from her family due to the priority of her brother being the Boy-Who-Lived, Ivy Potter was unaware that she was even a witch until her Hogwart's letter came – where she was sorted into Slytherin._

 **A/N:** _thank you so much to those who reviewed, they really made my day and keep me writing :) also a big thanks to all the favourites and follows!_

 _Also, I will be going by the_ _ **original**_ _source of Tracey Davis being a muggleborn, rather than the updated change of her to a half blood (I'm not entirely sure what a magical child of a squib-muggle relationship produces, but I'm going with muggleborn, since neither parent has magic)._

 _The sorting hat's song and one of Ron Weasley's lines belong to JK Rowling, along with the world of Harry Potter. I'm just writing a good ol' fanfic :)_

 _As a head's up: I will go with the theory that Lily was pregnant during the attack on Godric's Hollow, though that won't come into play for a while yet._

 _If you have any questions, or just want to talk, feel free to PM me :)_

 _Without further ado, chapter 2…_

 **Chapter 2: Platform 9 and ¾**

Despite having never been particularly bookish or studious, Ivy Potter often found her eyes straying over to her books in the corner of the room. She had read a few that had taken her fancy, like the _Heir Guide for Families of Olde_ which she had seen in Flourish and Blotts, which was fascinating to discover all the etiquette that she would need to know for Hogwarts.

Who knew that taking a hand shake could mean the making, or breaking, of an alliance?

Also, Mr. Flourish had recommended _Quidditch Through the Ages_ so that she may learn more of the Wizarding World's most popular sport. Ivy found it amazing, and was physically shaking with excitement at the prospect of being able to go on a broom. She had also been most dismayed to learn that first years were not allowed to have a broom, but she would be sure to buy one for her second year!

Along with the book upon Quidditch, she had also, admittedly, devoured _Hogwarts: a History_ ever so curious about the school that she was to attend.

Admittedly, she was yet to open her school books. Only habits died hard, she supposed, especially after it had took her so long to get into them after learning she could never outshine Dudley without risk of punishment.

But that was about to change.

Pushing herself off of her piteous excuse for a bed, she headed over to the stack of books in the corner of the room with a heaving sigh, picking out the most interesting looking one first.

"The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1," Ivy murmered, moving over to her bed with the book, "by Miranda Goshawk."

It had been a conversation that she had heard between a parents and their daughter that had spurred her into beginning her studies, as, despite being determined to prove her parents wrong, she had been nurtured in a way that handicapped this.

The daughter, with a head full of bushy brown hair, was proclaiming to her parents that she had read every single book on the curriculum for her new school, and the parents had been telling her how proud they are of her.

Ivy wanted that, so she renewed her efforts.

Having read _Hogwarts: a History_ several times, Ivy knew that she was not allowed to use or practise magic outside of school, but there was nothing wrong with bending the rules a little bit. Just because she couldn't actually cast the spell didn't mean that she couldn't practise the wand movement and incantation separately.

Ivy enjoyed the illustrations of the wand movement, following them what she thought was near perfectly, but she found the words a bit confusing, even with the breakdown of how to pronounce it next to it.

After two hours of practising the wand movements throughout the book, but struggling with the words, Ivy got out her newly acquired parchment and ink and decided to pen a letter to Mr. Flourish, who she hoped wouldn't mind.

Biting her lip, Ivy tried to be as formal as possible, remembering what the _Heir Guide_ said about Heirs not just making good first impressions, but good, consistent impressions. Also, it was good for an Heir to find possible allies that could be of use to them where they can.

Heirs were also only meant to make themselves vulnerable when they had something to gain from it.

 _Dear Mr. Flourish,_

 _I'm sorry to be disturbing you, but I wondered if you might have any information on a quick way to learn a language? I'm having trouble pronouncing my Latin spells._

 _Also, I wonder if I would be able to buy a book off of you over owl post rather than in person at the store, I would rather like to read the_ Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2 _._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Ivy Potter._

She decided not to sign Heiress Potter, thinking it might make the man feel as if she were trying to intimidate him and use her title to get what she wanted. A simple Ivy Potter sounded much better.

Sending it away via the newly named _Hedwig_ , a Saint who had once helped poor orphans. Ivy may have parents, but she felt that she was all but an orphan; she had thought so for many years after all.

Sending that off, she reread the _Standard Book of Spells_ once more, before moving onto _The Dark Forces: a Guide to Self-Protection_.

By the time she had looked at the clock, having been prancing around her room practicing wand movements, she found that she had been studying the books for about six hours. It was midnight.

Unable to put the book down, she got into Petunia's old pyjamas (she would have to go shopping for some muggle clothes before she went to Hogwarts, Ivy decided) and into bed, but continued to read.

" _Flipendo_ ," Ivy said, trying to stress the pronunciation, " _flip-pen-doh._ No, _flip-PEN-doh. Fli-PEN-doh._ "

By the time the sun rose the following day, Hedwig had returned with a large box that almost grounded the bird. Ivy cooed softly at the owl, wondering how on earth she had got it all the way from London to Surrey.

"Well done, Hedwig," Ivy told her, feeding her some of the recently purchased owl treats.

Opening up the box, Ivy stared wide-eyed and wide-grinned at its contents. Inside, there was _Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2_ (Miranda Goshawk) _, The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts_ (Arsenius Jigger), _Curses and Counter-Curses_ (Professor Vindictus Viridian), _Jinxes and Hexes, They Never Saw It Coming_ (Andredida Davine) and _Transfiguration: the Easy Way To Master The Most Difficult of Spells_ (Prudence Calloway).

Ivy already had the best potions books from the Slytherin packages she had picked up, as well as some other good books from a Ravenclaw package, but all of these were higher level.

Also, there was a small black box that, when opened, contained a bracelet. It was not a particularly expensive looking bracelet, nor a cheap one. It was one that would most likely not be noticed, and with what it was that was probably best.

 _Dear Heiress Potter,_

 _Within this box are many higher level books and a bracelet. On the bracelet you will see one charm – this charm represents the Latin language. Each time you buy a new charm, you can add it on and you will be able to read, write and speak in that language._

 _These charms are very expensive, put up in price due to the spells upon it that make it work; frowned upon due to 'darker' nature (which you can read about in the Dark and Light: a Journey of Magic) but not forbidden. However, in a school run by a renowned, majorly 'light' viewed wizard, I'd keep it hidden._

 _My older brother is in the business with such charms and I would be more than happy to assist you in the future, and that you may be able to help me._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Arthur Flourish,_

 _Descendant of the Ancient House of Rosier._

From the _Heir Guide_ and her other Wizarding World based book _Families of Olde_ , she knew well that the House of Rosier was a dwindling one, once a Most Noble and Most Ancient House, and reduced to merely an 'Ancient' one due to lack of standing, wealth and activities of their relations.

Smiling, finding this to be her first success as an Heiress, as it was ever so clear that she had much to gain from such a friendship (and he was kind, so she would feel bad turning down such an offer), she wrote back:

 _Dear Mr. Flourish of House Rosier,_

 _I thank you very much for the books and bracelet enclosed, and I share your view that we can both help each other. House Potter will majorly benefit from more allies, and I wonder if your House would be interested as well?_

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Heiress Potter_

Grinningly, she sent the letter off feeling ecstatic, clipping the bracelet on and excitably putting her bracelet onto her wrist. Momentarily, she was blinded by pain, her entire head feeling as if a rush of molten lava had just made it's way into the inner parts of her brain. It was excruciating, and took more than twenty minutes to cease, in which Ivy felt like vowing to never do it again.

However, after she got every pronunciation right, and was able to speak to herself in the Old Tongue, it all seemed worth it.

Semi-confident with the pronunciation and wand movements now (she would go over it many, many more terms before term fully began again), Ivy Potter could only hope that it would work when she came to genuinely cast the spell.

 **-IP-IP-IP-**

When the day of September 1st came, Ivy Potter found herself once more waiting for her parents. Who were half an hour later. This time, however, they did end up turning up; this left Ivy with the opportunity of meeting her brother.

Ivy herself had midnight black hair and bright green eyes, which Isaac Dawson at her school had compared to emeralds, until her cousin had ranted about how much of a freak she was. In opposition, her brother had dark red hair. Not as bright as their mother's, nor as dark as Ivy's or their father's. He, like her, had Lily Potter's eyes, looking more like their mother overall, just like Ivy looked more like their father.

He gave her a large grin, and Ivy had to stop herself from flinching when he pulled her in for a hug. This was the person, she had to remind herself, who had always stole their parents' attention – who they preferred.

"Hi Ivy, I'm Charles, you know, your brother," for a brief second, Ivy felt bad for laying all the blame on him, until he finished, with an arrogant look, "and the Boy Who Lived."

Then, clearly bored with her, he made his way into the car.

Under her parents' watchful gazes, she refrained from rolling her eyes at the arrogant sod. No, she decided, she did not feel sorry for laying all the blame on him.

James Potter ruffled her hair and told her, "it's good to see you again, Ive."

"I'm sure you and your brother will be great friends," Lily Potter chimed in, and Ivy simply grimaced and nodded, looking back to Aunt Petunia, she offered a small smile to the woman whom had been a little bit nicer to her lately, before getting in the car.

Her father had taken her trunk, but she insisted on keeping Hedwig with her, despite any of Charles' protests (and, because of Charles, her parents' protests).

"Bloody owl smells," Charles had complained with a scowl. Hedwig gave a hoot of annoyance in reply, and Ivy had simply ignored him.

"Language, Charles!" Their mother reprimanded, and the 'Boy Who Lived' payed her no mind.

Soon enough, the car was filled with Charles Potter's loud, arrogant voice as he told vivid – and, Ivy betted, very much exaggerated – stories of his own prowess in Quidditch and how he taught a bunch of 'slimy future Slytherins' a lesson.

James had praised him; Lily had frowned but said nothing.

This only increased Ivy's dislike towards him. She had read all of Hogwarts a history and, her love of history in the muggle world transferring to the magical world, she had read numerous history books about Dark Lords and the likes.

"You do realise that Algernon the Awful, the Dark Lord during the Norman Conquest, briefly went to Hogwarts and was sorted into Gryffindor?" Ivy inquired boredly, feeding Hedwig a treat.

"That's very true, Ivy," Lily told her with a proud smile. It made the young girl warm inside, and she hoped that she would receive that smile again and again – only for her, not for Charles.

"But all Slytherins are slimy gits! Only _some_ Gryffindors are, like Sirius Black!" At the name 'Sirius Black' the entire car went completely silent.

Too confused to ponder the expressions of pain upon her parents' expressions she quickly asked, "who's Sirius?"

"No one you need to worry about, Ives," Lily swiftly soothed, "he's just a bad, bad person. He's serving time in Azkaban now, so you don't need to worry."

"He betrayed mum and dad to Lord Voldemort! He's the reason Voldemort came to our house and I became the Boy Who Lived!" Charles proclaimed, and, as a result, Ivy heard her father hiss at him to shut his mouth. It was the first time Ivy had ever heard James, or Lily for that matter, be harsh to their son.

It seemed it was a first time for her brother too, for his eyes quickly welled with tears. Ivy looked away from him. If they'd said that to her, she wouldn't have cried. Maybe. Or perhaps she would of.

It was a long twenty minutes of silence, other than Hedwig's occasional hooting which drew withering glares for Charles, before they finally arrived at the station. Ivy, whom had never seen this particular part of London before, spent most of that time staring out of the window in joy.

She also marvelled at the train station when she had entered. The young girl had never stepped foot in a train station before, so it was all very new. Charles had laughed when she had jumped in fright at a train's hoot.

Along the way, they met a red haired family, the girl of whom blushed and hid behind her mother at the sight of Ivy's brother, and another boy who immediately clung to Charles – drinking in his every word like a man whom had been deprived from water.

Ivy continued to walk alone, until she was bombarded at two sides.

"Who are you then?" One of the two asked, both being identical.

"You look like-,"

"-Prongs-,"

"-but we have-,"

"-never heard of you before."

They grinned at her bewildered expression, and thinking they were making fun of her, everybody always did, she quickly snapped, "If Prongs is some kind of nickname for James Potter then yes, I'm his daughter. And yes, I'm the twin sister of your precious Boy Who Lived. Get lost."

Ivy's people skills had never been good. Severely lacking, in fact. She had never been allowed to talk to anyone but her Aunt and Uncle, Dudley, Mrs. Figg, Mrs. Figg's cats and her teacher if they asked her a question.

She didn't have friends, or enemies, but none the less she was pretty sure that a person was supposed to leave when the other person told you to 'get lost'. They didn't.

"Sorry, little Potter, didn't mean to-,"

"-ruffle your feathers. If it helps-,"

"-we don't like the boy either, always acts as if he's got a-,"

"-stick up his ass."

Despite herself, Ivy grinned at the twins, giggling slightly and they smiled back. Soon enough, Ivy was watching, with shock and horror, as Charles Potter ran at a wall (quite frankly, she had thought that he was stupid on the car ride, but not _this_ stupid), and then vanished through it.

All Ivy managed to get out was, "how.."

"Trust us, little Potter-,"

"-just run."

And so, closing her eyes, breathing out, and reassuring herself that the worst that could come out of this would be that she would die, and that meant she would never have to see another one of Mrs. Figg's cats… Or have to suffer under the Dursleys.

With more reassuring thoughts, she ran, and, vanishing through the wall. And kept on running. She ended up bawling a few people over before she opened her eyes, unable to realise that she had just ran through what she had thought to be a _solid_ wall.

"Ouch!" Exclaimed a dark haired boy, whom she had knocked over as well as a blonde haired girl and what seemed to be the girl's little sister.

"Sorry," Ivy squeaked, quickly getting out of the way of the undoubtedly angry children, and making her way towards where she saw a head of red and black in the crowd. On the way, she heard what seemed to be a boy and his nan conversing about a lost toad called Trevor. Ivy couldn't help but snort at the name, and the fact that you could bring a _frog_ to school!

"Have a good year, Charles, and remember to pull lots of pranks," Ivy overheard James Potter saying to his younger child, "and if Snivellous gives you any grief, remember that I'm only an owl away. I'll introduce the guy to that Herbal Essences shampoo your mum likes."

"James," Lily reprimanded, with a slightly amused smile, "remember to write weekly, Charles. You have no idea how much we'll miss having you around."

 _We'll miss having you around_.

They didn't even want her around!

Just as tears started welling in her eyes, James and Lily turned around, and Lily's face swiftly turned to surprised and regretful, "Ives-,"

Ivy turned on her heel, unable to stop the tears from falling down her face as she evaded them, boarding the Hogwarts Express and relentlessly pulling at her case until it got on. Hardly anybody had boarded yet – still saying goodbye to their families – so almost all the compartments were free. Despite this, Ivy headed all the way to the back of the train before grabbing that compartment, not wanting for Charles to come and find her.

Or anyone else for that matter.

Sighing heavily, and brushing the tears from her eyes, she got out one of the books she had purchased via owl from Mr. Flourish - _Lux et tenebrae, in disputatione_ , a book written in Latin, upon the debate of light and dark, their differences and similarities. It was her third time reading it, and each time she grew more and more confused and frustrated with the magical world.

How could they brand 'dark' magic for evil? _Avada Kedavra_ could be used to put a suffering patient out of their misery, _Crucio_ could be used to shock a wizard or witch back to life, and _Imperio_ could be used to prevent a person from commiting suicide.

Just as a _Wingardium Leviosa_ could be used to wrench someone from the ground and drop them off a cliff, or something of the likes. Dark did not mean evil; light did not mean good.

Just as Ivy had finished chapter eight, the train having already been going for what had to be an hour, the door to her carriage slammed open, and a girl in tears entered, closing and locking the door behind her.

She didn't seem to notice, or care, about Ivy's presence. But, when her head swivelled around to look at her, she began to frantically brush away her tears and began ranting, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was occupied. I was trying to escape Malfoy and his goons, they jinxed me," she sniffed as she gestured to the many, many bulging warts that had clearly been cursed there by the 'Malfoy' person, "and then I was running, and oh, I really didn't mean to come in here. They hate me because my dad's a squib and my mum's a muggle, dad changed his last name to her's, and, I'm sorry-,"

"It's fine," Ivy cut off with a small smile, offering the girl a seat at her side, which the brunette took gratefully, "I can take the warts off if you want… Are you allowed to use magic on the train?"

"I believe so," the girl told her, "and please do."

" _Aversa Pars_ ," Ivy casted, and the girl's warts were soon gone, leaving behind smooth, tan skin.

"Thanks," she said, "I'm Tracey Davis by the way."

"I'm Ivy Potter," she introduced, and saw how the girl – Tracey Davis, Ivy corrected herself – eyes widened. The older Potter rolled her eyes, already prepared for the Boy Who Lived connection that Tracey was sure to make. Surprisingly, however, the girl did not say anything at all and quickly looked away.

When she turned back, she caught sight of Ivy's forehead, her eyes widened and she asked, "is that a scar?"

Ivy fought the urge to be defensive. After all, at least she hadn't mentioned Charles.

"Yes, apparently I've had it since I was a baby," Ivy didn't elaborate anymore, and Tracey seemed to take the cue. Both falling silent.

However, Ivy quickly felt guilty and rather upset. It seemed as if she had scared off a girl who she could have become friends with. So, when the trolly lady came along, she made sure to buy practically the entire thing, and share it with Tracey.

Within ten minutes, half of it was gone and Tracey was telling her about how her father – who had some kind of strange name like Fulcran – had once been attacked by about ten chocolate frogs! Ivy didn't believe the tale until she opened a few packets and they were all jumping over her.

The train ride from then on consisted of debates on light and dark (Tracey eagerly showed off a similar bracelet to Ivy's, but with more charms, "my father has family ties to the Rosiers, who make and sell them," Tracey had explained), light hearted giggles and Ivy teaching Tracey some basic spells, and Tracey returning the favour with helping her understand the theory side.

Ivy found that she rather excelled at the practical, but theory seemed to be a rather different matter.

Only once were they interrupted by a girl looking for a toad, probably the 'Trevor' that the boy and his Nan had been discussing at the station, but she quickly went. Ivy said to find a prefect to accio him, as, while Ivy had tried, that spell was too high a level for her to accomplish with her current unrestrained and untaught magic.

When the train came to a stop, Ivy found that she was disappointed. Looping arms hesitantly (having seen other children do it, but never having participated in it herself) with Tracey as they headed off of the train and to where a ridiculously tall man – who Ivy rather thought was a giant! – and the boats.

Ivy and Tracey hurried over to get in one themselves, being joined by a dark haired boy that, for some reason, Ivy could have sworn she recognised, and an Italian looking boy.

"You were the one who bawled me over with your trolley," the dark haired boy accused, and Ivy quickly ducked her head as Tracey giggled at her, and the other boy let out a loud laugh.

Not a minute later, Ivy narrowly missed hitting her head on the bridge when she didn't hear the giant tell them to put her head down. Tracey had to yank her down.

As soon as they were out, they were ushered to follow a stern looking woman. She spoke, Ivy knew, but she found herself not paying attention at all, instead looking around at all the others. She was nervous. Nobody had told her what was supposed to happen at the sorting.

She knew a few spells, of course, but she lacked the ability to take in as much theory. Would she have a test on her first day? She hoped not!

Looking worriedly at Tracey, she realised, to some relief that the other girl was looking very much nervous as well as the stern woman left.

As they were left to chatter amongst themselves, Ivy heard the red haired boy who was with her brother say, "some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Ivy, surprisingly, was more worried about the test part than the pain part. She hoped it wouldn't be much worse than the odd whack she got with the back of Petunia's frying pan. Tracey, however, clearly did not feel the same way.

Her whole face paled, and she stepped a bit closer to Ivy, "do you really reckon it's going to hurt?"

Ivy Potter didn't react, unaware of anything that she could do to comfort the girl without lying. After all, she didn't know either.

Feeling a gush of wind behind her, Ivy turned before letting out a small scream.

It was a ghost.

"Good heavens," the ghost said in a strangely joyful manner, "that was enough to burst my ear drums, girl. I do hope to see you in Gryffindor, with lungs like that."

It then moved away from her, smiling, and Ivy was left to exchange a wide eyed look with Tracey, before the other girl began to laugh.

"Shut up," Ivy hissed good naturedly, hitting her friend on the soldier.

"Sorry," Tracey told her between giggles, "it's just your face. It's a picture."

Ivy rolled her eyes, just as the stern woman came back into the room. At her commands, the ghosts took off and all the first years, including Ivy herself, formed into a line ready to be sorted, "follow me," she said.

Obediently, all the first years did, and Ivy marvelled at the celling that she had read all about in _Hogwarts: a History_ , she heard another girl talking about it as well. The very same who had come looking for the boy's toad on the train.

As they came to a stop in front of a stool and a hat, Ivy's mind began to whirl with the possibilities. Tracey quickly whispered to her, "do you reckon we have to pull a rabbit out of it?"

Ivy felt cold dread fill her. She didn't know how to summon a rabbit, let alone get one in a hat, or magically pull one out!

"I really, really, hope we don't," Ivy said, shifting nervously around.

It was then, to all the unknowing students' shock, that the hat opened it creased, dusty mouth (Ivy was sure that Petunia would not let that thing within ten miles of her house!) and began to sing:

" _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _94_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _if you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folk use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Everybody burst into applause at the tables, and Ivy found herself awkwardly half-clapping with them, too surprised to be overly impressed, all the while listening to the red haired boy threatening to kill his brothers.

"Abbott, Hannah," McGonagall called out, waiting only for a few moments before a blonde, pig-tailed girl went eagerly up to the stool, for the hat to proclaim only a few moments later:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

There was a cheer from the table decked in yellow and black with the symbol of a badger – Hufflepuff's colours and animal, Ivy soon recognised – and the girl went to join them, her tie changing to yellow and black.

 _Bones, Susan_ was next, running up to become the second Hufflepuff, joining Hannah. Then there was _Boot, Terry_ who became the first Ravenclaw, then followed by Brocklehurst, Mandy and then _Brown, Lavender_ became the first Gryffindor of the lot.

The hat sent _Cornfoot, Stephen_ to Ravenclaw and _Crabbe, Vincent_ to Slytherin before, finally, McGonagall called out for, "Davis, Tracey."

Ivy gave her new friend her best reassuring smile as the girl nervously took to the platform. McGonagall quickly placed the hat on her head. It took a whole minute for Tracey, the longest so far, before the hat proclaimed: "SLYTHERIN!"

The green and silver table at the far end let out a small cheer, mostly politely clapping, and some not clapping at all. Ivy frowned, wondering why many were so unenthusiastic, before remembering that Tracey was considered a muggleborn.

Soon Ivy felt rage boiling within her. They were fools to treat Tracey like that! If they wanted muggleborns to respect their culture, as they should, then they should at least show them an ounce of respect! It was because of this that Slytherin gained it's bad reputation!

Ivy was determined to change the Wizarding World's conservative views, to make muggleborns and purebloods alike listen and savour in the Wizarding Culture and mutual respect.

Above anything, Ivy wanted to make a difference in this world. Leave her own mark.

Ivy frowned at the much, much more enthusiastic cheers for _Greengrass, Daphne_ (the blonde girl Ivy had run over with her trolley, she realised, embarrassed) and the other Slytherins after her. That group consisted of _Malfoy, Draco_ who Ivy suspected was the one who had cursed Tracey, and thus sent him a venomous glare, and the boy who she had ran over with her trolley _Nott, Theodore_.

Finally, she was broken from her thoughts when she heard them say, "Potter, Charles."

Her brother swaggered up there with confidence, but, soon after the hat was dropped upon his head, his face began to go red with what seemed to be anger and fear. Ivy fought the concern down. Everything that had occurred with her parents was _his_ fault, she shouldn't have to feel bad for the arrogant sod.

After what must have been two and a half minutes of silence, everybody craning to get a look at Ivy's famous brother, the hat seemed to sigh and proclaimed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

"Potter, Ivy," was called up next, and, if possible, there were even more whispers at her name as she got onto the platform.

"I didn't know Charles Potter had a sister!"

"Do you reckon she's some kind of superhero too?"

"How come I've never heard of her?"

She drowned it all out, however, when, to her utter bewilderment, the hat began to _talk_ inside her head.

 _Hm,_ it said as she jumped, _interesting, very interesting…_

What's interesting? Ivy longed to ask.

 _Plenty of courage, I see. But a thirst, to prove yourself. To prove yourself to your parents, to prove yourself to the world. A thirst for greatness. A very, very ambitious young mind, I see. With the potential cunning of a Slytherin. Though not the self-preservation. Too rash, too brave, too loyal._

Ivy honestly could not understand why the hat seemed to think that bravery and loyalty were ill traits.

 _You'd do well in Ravenclaw with your recent thirst for knowledge, Gryffindor your bravery and rashness, and Hufflepuffs would value your loyalty… And yet your ambitions, thirst for greatness and potential cunning are strong._

Slytherin, Ivy thought to the hat, I want to be in Slytherin.

 _A perfect choice,_ the hat told her inside of her head, _they will lead you on the path to greatness. Better be…_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Ivy eagerly took the hat off of her head, revelling slightly in the cheers her table emitted as they shook her hand when she came over.

They greeted her as _Heiress Potter_ , and Ivy grinned at the use of the title that Charles could never have as long as she live. He may be the Boy Who Lived, he may have their parents' adoration, but she was still the Heir. And, somehow, all the Slytherins seemed to know.

She supposed that one of their parents did a bit of digging, wanting to keep them well informed, perhaps.

Ivy declined the few offers to sit beside others, grinning as she moved to sit beside Tracey, who looked slightly down.

Little did Ivy know that, in the next few days, when her brother's arrogance would be tied to her, her unrelenting friendship to a muggle born became evident and the Head of Slytherin made his dislike for her well known, the Slytherins would not be quite so warm.

 **A/N** _all my chapters are done without a Beta, by the way, if anyone would like to Beta then feel free to get in touch! 5600+ words, damn, that's the most I've done! Also, for pairings, I'm currently thinking of Fem!Harry/Theodore, but I'm also considering Draco and perhaps Neville. But, in all honesty, I quite like the idea of a Tracey/Neville pairing. What do you guys think? :)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Ashes of the Phoenix: Year One**

 **A/N:** _guess who's baaaccckkkkkk. Anyways, just so you know this book will be a mixture of things that happened in the film and what happened in the books. For example, McGonagall's first lesson is taken more from the film than the books because I love that dramatic cat transformation but her speech about transfiguration is from the book – so it's not mine! Like most things so far tbh, which will be changing more and more XD…_

 _Oh, and I don't have a Beta so sorry for any spelling mistakes!_

 **Chapter 3, the Snakes and the Lions:**

Dutifully, the eleven-year olds followed the Prefects from the Great Hall, trailing after them as small ducklings would their mother. Ivy and Tracey lagged behind somewhat, taking in the sights on their way to the dungeons. Never before had either girl seen moving portraits, both having grown up more in the muggle world than the magical one. They found themselves fascinated when Ivy saw a portrait of Anne Boleyn. Had she really been a witch then? Perhaps she could ask her…

"The password to the common area," the Slytherin Prefect broke in melodramatically, snapping Ivy away from her thoughts, "is _Merlin_ , which changes daily. To any of you who are thinking that is an easy password, you are wrong. What house would outwardly admit that one of the greatest wizards of all time was in out house, seen as they think we're all evil? Be prepared for the prejudice, little ones, otherwise you might as well not be here."

With those words, the platinum haired, female Prefect spoke the password before sauntering through the frame. Ivy and Tracey exchanged a look, before following. After Charles' ravings about the Slytherins on the way to the train station, she supposes she should have been more prepared to hear about the prejudices, but it just didn't make any sense to her. It's like saying that because Grindelwald was blonde, then all blondes were evil.

 _Well_ , Ivy thought, looking distrustfully at an almost white-haired boy who was ranting about how his father would have gotten him the largest and most brilliant dorm room.

Stepping through the frame, she was faced with a stunning room. Ivy had never been particularly materialistic; she hadn't really had the opportunity to be with the Dursleys, but this room exuded wealth and class. The furniture was finely made, dark woods and elm that looked centuries old but not worn down in the slightest. In fact, Ivy wouldn't be surprised if some of the furniture had resided here since Slytherin himself, preserved over the ages. No doubt the material atop them was silk, fine and coloured an excellent shade of emerald, and some silver.

A fireplace resided on the back wall, large and commanding the attention of the room, contained in marble. Perhaps even more noticeable than the fireplace, however, was the throne-like chair opposite it. The chair was high and proud, and made entirely of platinum. From the arm rests, snakes twisted out and moved upon their own whim, made from the same material with the emerald gem itself for eyes. Despite the fact that the chair would no doubt be uncomfortable and cold, Ivy knew without a doubt that she wanted it.

The presumably Sixth Year girl who had led them to the common room sat herself down in the chair sideways. From the long windows on the right side of the room, the eerie green glow of the lake lit up her smirking face sinisterly. She regarded each of them in turn, and Ivy knew the moment the blonde looked at her that she had seen the hunger and ambition in Ivy's eyes.

"Welcome to Slytherin," was all the girl said, before becoming disinterested when a group of her friends – well, minions Ivy thinks would describe them better – came rushing over to sit to her sides. Ivy continued to watch the scene, noting the awe and respect in their eyes for the girl on the throne, and she found she wanted that throne even more now.

"Ives," Tracey broke in, offering the black-haired Potter a brilliant smile, "it's the left staircase that leads up to the girls' rooms, are you coming?"

Ivy nodded eagerly, glad to see that the other First Years were also distracted by the Prefect, so that they would get one of the first picks of rooms. Grabbing Tracey's hand – just like she'd seen the other girls do in the playground, but had never had anyone to do it with herself – they giggled together and ran up the stairs, the other girls then hot on their heels.

Swiftly, Ivy and Tracey swung the doors open to each room as they passed. The rooms closer to the stairwell were slightly bigger, but they both decided on the two end rooms. That way, if someone decided to attack or come looking for them, then it would take them longer and the other girls' screams would surely alert them. Pessimistic thinking, sure, but she had too often been taken by surprise by Dudley and his companions.

After both putting their stuff in their respective rooms, Tracey told Ivy to come to hers. Ivy's was the very furthest room – simply because she ran faster than the less athletically inclined Tracey – so Ivy walked out of her's and one room to the right to see the new interior of Tracey's room.

The sight of Tracey's room made her feel numb. Pictures of Tracey and her father – a kind-looking man with aristocratic features and pale skin, making Ivy certain that Tracey must have got her wildly curly hair and burnt caramel skin from her mother's side – littered the room in various frames, both grinning and laughing in all of them. Also, Tracey had various posters of her own interests. She had a Star Wars poster – a trilogy that Ivy had never heard of but had always heard other children talking about – and a Queen poster. There were also books littered all over the study desk provided, most by Edith Blyton.

Ivy's room was a complete contrast. Her walls were simply emerald green. There was nothing else. Her study desk had her school books and the extras that Mr. Flourish had provided; her side table draw had nothing in it bar a few figurines that she had sentimentally swiped from her cupboard.

"My dad has always loved Star Wars and Queen, so he got me to watch and listen to them too and I loved it! Wouldn't it be magical to be able to find your own Han Solo here? Or maybe even a Luke Skywalker, he was cute too!" Tracey excitedly explained when she saw Ivy's eyes roaming the room, when she came to explain the books, her tone turned a little more sombre, "Enid Blyton was my mum's favourite author – she bought me all of those books before she died… Who's your favourite author?"

The dark-haired girl had no idea what to say. She could hardly tell Tracey that any time she took a book out of the school library then Uncle Vernon would throw it away or rip it and tell her to continue with her Aunt's list of chores; no doubt Tracey would realise what a pathetic freak Ivy was too then. Thinking quickly of the books she'd read over the summer, she stutteringly blurted out, "M-Miranda Goshawk."

Tracey made a face and laughed, "that's cheating! You can't say one of the school books."

When Ivy didn't reply, merely put her head down, Tracey's smile dimmed. Tears burned in the eldest Potter's eyes, she felt so embarrassed and pathetic, so inferior. Ivy hated feeling powerless. _Just change the subject, you freak_ , she scolded herself.

Ivy lifted her head when she saw Tracey's hand offering her something. Tracey was offering her a tentative smile and one of her books, called: _The Faraway Tree_.

"It was my mother's favourite, this was the copy that she was given for her fifth birthday," the brunette informed her quietly, "and I'm sure you'll love it to."

Slowly, as if she was waiting for Tracey to change her mind (which she was), Ivy took the book from her hands, pulling it against her chest. With barely a second interval, Ivy threw her arms around Tracey and hugged her. Tracey gripped back just as tightly.

"Will you be my best friend?" Ivy asked. She didn't know if you were supposed to ask or not – she'd never really had friends, but Tracey didn't seem to mind if she was doing it wrong.

"You're already my best friend, Ives."

Being ever so excited about her first day, Ivy was ready a whole half an hour before breakfast was even set to begin. After five minutes of trying to refrain from doing so, she found herself knocking on Tracey's door, hoping the curly-haired girl wouldn't find the action too weird.

Tracey, as it turns out, had gotten ready early too. In fact, she'd been ready a whole hour before Ivy had! But she hadn't been sure if Ivy was an early bird or not.

"I am," Ivy had told her, without elaborating that she had to be so she could finish some of her chores in order to be able to go to school, and their conversation soon shifted to what they thought their timetables would look like.

When they finally got to the bottom of the stairs (First Years were on the very top floor, which inspired some jealousy in Ivy as the Sixth and Seventh Years must get a beautiful view of the lake) they found the common room bursting with energy. By the thrones, the blonde girl and her group had again taken up residence; near the common room door, a congregation of what appeared to be third years loitered and talked about what options they had picked; finally, by the windows to the lake, stood various groups of first years.

Tracey and Ivy wandered over to them all. As soon as they saw Tracey, a muggleborn, heading their way they turned their backs to them. Almost imperceptibly, Tracey's ever-cheerful expression faltered before she recovered and shoved the mask back into place. Without needing to speak with each other, they appeared to understand that they would not bother trying to speak to the others, and stopped a couple of metres away from them.

"What do you think our Head of House will be like?" Tracey inquired thoughtfully after a few moments of comfortable silence, her eyes scanning the room.

"I don't know," Ivy replied, hoping that he would be kinder to Tracey and her blood status than the rest of Slytherin appeared to be, but a part of her truly doubted that, "I hope he'll be helpful and fair, though."

A snort came from their far right, and they turned to regard a group of Second- or Third-Year boys. The one who'd snorted, a golden blonde, grinned toothily at them as he informed them, "Snape's a good Head of House, so long as you don't get on his bad side. Good old Selwyn sent him a bottle of shampoo in First Year as a Christmas joke and the Professor has hated him ever since. He can hold a grudge, so watch out Firsties, don't want to make yourselves Slytherin's Undesirables."

A bell sounded, informing them they could begin to make their way to Breakfast. The group of boys shoved past them, snickering when Ivy's bag fell off her shoulder as a result of the jostling. She and Tracey both scowled at their retreating backs, before moving to catch up with the rest of the crowd.

"I doubt he's really _that_ bad," Tracey told her optimistically, a hop still in her step, "teachers can't be bias and hold grudges. We'll see anyways later, so there's no point speculating."

Ivy nodded silently, and they began to trudge their way up the large staircase from the dungeons to the Great Hall. When they arrived there, there were no candles as there had been last night, as there was no need. The enchanted ceiling that Ivy had read about in _Hogwarts: A History_ was displaying a bright, clear September day and the large windows behind the main table letting in much light.

From what they could see, even the table seemed to have a hierarchy. At the top of the table, closest to the teachers, is where the First Years were sitting and so on down the table. The only difference was that the blonde Prefect, who Ivy was certain wasn't yet a Seventh Year, and her clique sat at the very, very end.

Not wanting to get into any conflicts on the first day, and not really being that bothered, the two eleven year olds took their seats at the very front of the table, as many of the First Years had moved a considerable distance down the table – squishing up – so they didn't have to be near a Muggleborn.

This time, it was Ivy's turn to summon a cheerful smile to, hopefully, make Tracey feel more positively about all of this. Any discontent Tracey might have felt was soon wiped away when mountains of food magically appeared after a final 'welcome to Hogwarts' from the Headmaster. From their position, they had the perfect scope of the teachers' table and Ivy got out her book about Hogwarts so she could recognise which one was Professor Snape.

Discreetly, Ivy then pointed him out to Tracey. Already, merely from appearance, it was evident that he was a solemn, cold man that rather reminded Ivy of Scrooge from when her school had put on the play A Christmas Carol. Little Matthew Yates hadn't acted the part very well, but still. Ivy was cut off from regarding him any further when his nearly black eyes snapped towards her and she swiftly averted hers with a start. He was still looking at her for several moments afterwards, so the dark haired girl dared a peek back and was shocked to see the complete and utter _loathing_ in his eyes.

"Damn, if he was Medusa you'd be stone right now," Tracey told her, having seen it too, "and then after you were stone, he would have shoved your statue to the floor so you would break into a bijillion little pieces and then he would have sent you to some kind of breaker-thingy and thrown-,"

"I get it, Trace," Ivy told her with a small smile, eyes showing both amusement, confusion and concern, "I just don't understand what I've done to make him hate me so."

Tracey shrugged sympathetically, before beginning to talk about what a lovely day it was, and how they might be doing flying lessons today. The eldest Potter zoned out, looking at herself up and down. Had she put her tie on wrong? First Year ties were clip-on ones anyway so she doesn't understand how that could have gone wrong. Maybe it was her hair? She had noticed that most of the other Slytherins had impeccable hair, even Tracey's lovely curls were somewhat tamed into a half-up half-down look. But Ivy's hair just wasn't tameable, it wasn't in it's nature.

She'd try harder to make her hair more orderly before her first lesson, she decided, despite already knowing it would be an effort in vain.

When Snape got up from his seat and began to walk towards them, Ivy felt the distinct urge to flinch. Only her Uncle and Aunt looked at her with that much dislike when she had done something so wrong that she would suffer one of their very occasional hits. He moved his hand suddenly, and Ivy flinched and closed her eyes. A moment passed, and she opened her eyes to see it was simply her time table being held out in front of her.

Meekly, she grabbed it off of him, muttering an embarrassed apology. Snape, Tracey and some of the First Years who had been watching the altercation stared at her – so she matched all of them with a defensive glare. The Head of House then scoffed at her, muttering something about being just like 'Potter' with his dramatics, before moving on.

Tracey's concerned gaze had been forgotten when the curly-haired girl's attention was stolen by her own time table. Ivy was glad of that, and looked down to finally read her own.

 _MONDAY:_

 _FIRST PERIOD (9:00AM-10:00AM): Transfiguration with Ravenclaw_

 _SECOND PERIOD (10:00AM-11:00AM): History of Magic with Hufflepuff_

 _BREAK (11:00AM-11:30AM)_

 _THIRD PERIOD (11:30AM-12:30AM): Potions with Gryffindor_

 _LUNCH (12:30AM-1:15PM)_

 _FOURTH PERIOD (1:15PM-2:15PM): Defence Against the Dark Arts with Ravenclaw_

 _FIFTH PERIOD (2:15PM-3:15PM): Flying with Gryffindor_

 _TUESDAY:_

 _FIRST PERIOD (9:00AM-10:00AM): Charms with Gryffindor (DOUBLE)_

 _SECOND PERIOD (10:00AM-11:00AM): Charms with Gryffindor (DOUBLE)_

 _BREAK (11:00AM-11:30AM)_

 _THIRD PERIOD (11:30AM-12:30AM): History of Magic with Hufflepuff_

 _LUNCH (12:30AM-1:15PM)_

 _FOURTH PERIOD (1:15PM-2:15PM): Herbology with Ravenclaw_

 _FIFTH PERIOD (2:15PM-3:15PM): NONE_

 _ASTROLOGY WITH GRYFFINDOR (10:00PM-11:00PM)_

Ivy read the other days, of course, but she focused mainly on what was coming up immediately. There appeared to be more pairings with Gryffindor than any other house, which made her thoughtful. Was that to try to heal the rift between the two houses, or to worsen it?

Thinking of her 'rival' House, her emerald eyes darted to regard her twin brother. Charles Potter appeared to be in the middle of some kind of elaborate story, with a red-haired boy and brown-haired boy hanging on his every word. Meanwhile, two other classmates of him, one with darker skin and the other who Ivy recalled to have lost a frog, conversed with one another. Many eyes around the room, whichever house it may be, darted their eyes over to her brother frequently – and sometimes even her too.

It made Ivy feel like some kind of exotic animal in a zoo that people yearned to look at and even wanted to pet. A caged animal.

The dark-haired girl was glad to hear the bell ring for first period, prompting her and Tracey to eagerly begin to make their way to Transfiguration.

Once all the students had entered the room, it was as if a silent civil war was occurring. To the left of the room sat a sea of red Gryffindors, whereas the snakes made their home on the right. All desks in the centre of this segregation were pushed further apart, and disgusted looks were exchanged (mainly from the Gryffindor side). Ivy didn't particularly care for their little war, but she was proud of her house so if a Gryffindor met her with a condescending look, she would send one straight back.

A cat resided upon the table at the very front, eyeing the students with an almost human-like observation. Ivy furrowed her brows at the animal, which stared back at her, but she soon shrugged it off. She had heard that certain magical breeds of cats were more intelligent than others, perhaps this was an example of that.

The Professor was late, though, which made the anticipation in Ivy build. She couldn't wait to start learning magic!

Unsurprisingly, her brother and his friend made a scene by bursting in late. The bright red haired boy looked somewhat sheepish, but her brother appeared uncaring – as if a lesson didn't even start until he arrived. It made Ivy roll her eyes, doing so even harder when he met her eyes and gave her a look of upmost revulsion and disbelief.

 _If you don't think any sister of yours should be a snake then maybe you should have made sure mum and dad didn't abandon me for you,_ Ivy thought bitterly, stabbing her quill into the table which earnt her a sharp look from cat with curious circular markings around it's eyes.

Said cat leaped from the table it had resided upon, transforming into a woman as it did so. Ivy's mouth fell open, and she mentally hit herself at her own stupidity. Of course! An animagus! It even had the circular markings from McGonagall's glasses! Disappointment in herself cut hard, feeling almost as if she'd failed before the lesson had started.

"That was amazing!" Tracey remarked in a hushed tone, "do you reckon she'll teach us how to do that?"

Ivy smiled at Tracey's excitement, which soon filled her too, "I don't think so, I read that it's really hard to manage but we should teach ourselves one day!"

Tracey hastily nodded, so hard that Ivy giggled, thinking her head might fall off.

McGonagall scolded the two for being late, but seemed to look at Charles fondly, and soon told them to take their seats, before beginning her speech: "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic that you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

As an example of the magic she was about to teach, she turned her desk into a pig which Ivy marvelled at. She wondered how long the transfiguration would last… Maybe it depended on the power of the caster? Or maybe certain spells had a time limit?

Her train of thought made her smile. The studying truly was helping her have a more curious approach to academics, rather than the removed attitude she'd had because of Dudley's lack of brains.

Professor McGonagall then set them the task of turning a match stick into a needle. By the end of the lesson, Hermione Granger had done the best – the end pointy and the match turning silver. Charles also appeared to be efficient at this lesson, which made Ivy scowl, having turned his own matchstick silver too. Ivy's had gone a little pointy, but not enough to be praise-worthy, which was displayed with McGonagall delivered smiles to Hermione and Charles and showed their matchstick-needles to the room.

Her brother, who was seated in the middle of the division due to entering late, turned to the right and said to the Slytherins with a scoff, "maybe you should change your _clever_ characteristic to _evil_ , you Merlin's asses."

Every single Slytherin glowered at the arrogant boy. McGonagall, to Ivy's intense dismay, simply gave him a sharp look rather than scolding him. What was even worse was that then the Slytherins turned to her with accusatory looks, as if she was responsible for her brother's actions.

"Shut your brother up, Potter," Daphne Greengrass hissed towards her lowly, "or we'll do it for you."

Uncertainly, Ivy said, "stop it, Charles, you're being rude."

Charles looked at her with the same disgusted look he'd given her earlier, and told her, "I bet mum and dad are so disappointed in you."

The Potter girl spent until the bell rang desperately fighting off tears, before rushing off to History of Magic with Tracey trailing behind her.


End file.
